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K is for Knuckleheads
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Danny hated stakeouts. They were tedious. Monotonous. Downright boring. Sure, you could try to liven it up with a carefully selected music mix, or some comfort food. You could even bring along the sports section or a good book. But even the catchiest music and the most gripping novel became mind numbing after a few hours.

On very rare occasions, a stakeout could get interesting. You might get lucky and actually find the person you were looking for or interrupt a crime in progress. You could flush out the dumbest criminal, or capture the craftiest felon. One time, in Jersey, a suspect that Danny and his partner had under surveillance actually ordered takeout and had it sent to the officers' vehicle.

The success of a stakeout really hinged on who you were stuck with in the car. Danny just happened to be seated next to the antsiest person he had ever met. His partner, Steve McGarrett, former SEAL and trigger-happy head of the Five-0 task force, was probably the only other person in the world who hated stakeouts more than Danny did. And that was really saying something.

Steve's leg was bouncing up and down, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel, and Danny had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from shouting at his partner to just stop it. He knew this part of police procedure was difficult for Steve to handle, and he had to give him some leeway.

"We should just go in there," Steve said. Again. For the fifth time in an hour. "He's got to be in there. Let's just go in, introduce ourselves, and then…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Danny interrupted, putting his hands up. "Introduce ourselves? What does that even mean? Your idea of introducing yourself is to kick down the door and shoot someone in the face. No, we are going to stay here, in the car, until Wallace shows himself. Then, and only then, my friend, can you introduce yourself. Got it?"

Danny accepted Steve's low growl as agreement and settled back in his seat.

Steve clenched and unclenched his jaw. This was getting them absolutely nowhere. Sitting. Watching. He wasn't used to all of this waiting. In the SEALS, he didn't have to do anything like this. The powers that be did the watching and planning. Steve got his mission. Steve went in and completed the mission. Boom and boom. No waiting. No sitting. No nothing.

Steve bit his lower lip. He scratched his ear. He tapped his foot. He watched as a car drove by and turned down the street running parallel to the building they were watching. That was it. He couldn't take this anymore.

He opened the car door, stepping out into the cool night air, sunrise only a few short hours away. Moving to the trunk of the Camaro, he reached in and pulled out a few extra clips, slipping them into the pockets of his pants. He was so focused on moving in on Wallace that he failed to notice Danny standing silently next to him, his arms crossed on his torso.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Danny demanded in a low, harsh whisper.

"I'm going in, Danny. Wallace isn't going to make the mistake of showing himself. We need to force his hand."

"Force his hand? We can't just go in there without back-up!"

"You are beginning to sound like a broken record, you know that?"

Danny huffed, but grabbed his vest out of the trunk anyway. Once they were set, they ran across the street, taking up position on either side of the main entrance. Steve took out his Sig as Danny glanced around to be sure no one was watching them before pulling out his own weapon. Suddenly Steve stepped back, planted a foot in the ground, and kicked the other hard against the door. The evening's silence was pierced with the loud bang of the door bursting open.

"Really?" Danny asked, glaring at his partner. Steve shrugged, then went into the building first. Danny followed close behind. Quickly sweeping through the main room, they ventured deeper into the building, Steve taking lead and Danny two steps behind. They were nearly at the end of the hallway when a door suddenly swung open behind them. Danny swung around to face the new threat, but pain exploded in his head and he instantly fell to the ground. He barely heard the scuffling around him before he blacked out completely.

The first thing Danny felt when he slowly woke up was that his head hurt. Then he noticed the kink in his neck. And the ache in his tailbone. And the rawness of his throat. Cataloging his injuries only intensified his headache, so he stopped, sighed, and finally opened his eyes.

He was in a small room, lying on a cold, cement floor. There were no windows, and a single low-watt bulb that dangled from the ceiling illuminated the room, casting a soft yellow hue on everything. Craning his head back and to the right, Danny saw a closed door. Without a knob or a handle, he suspected that it could only be opened from the outside. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself up to a sitting position.

He rubbed the back of his head, noticing the large lump that had already sprouted from where he was hit. He gingerly rose to his feet, intent on finding out where he was and how to get out. He was about to reach the door when a muffled thudding sound stopped him. He paused, his hand hovering inches away from the wall, when he heard it again, followed by a shout.

"Tell me who you are!"

Danny turned and strode over to the opposite side of the room, leaning over and pressing his ear against the rough, filthy surface of the wall. Another dull thud reached his ears followed by another demanding yell.

"It all stops when you tell me who you are and what the cops know!"

Danny pulled his head away from the wall when the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh drifted through the thin partition. The pounding continued, and every once in a while, he could hear a soft grunt.

Steve?

He wondered if he should call out. Make his presence known to his partner and their captors. Hit after hit reached his ears and he could stand it no longer.

"Hey!" Nothing. "That's enough, alright? That's enough!"

Danny made his way to the sealed door. Sure enough, it didn't swing outward no matter how many times Danny tried to budge it. Unsure if his original shout had captured anyone's attention, he began to kick at the door, shouting some more.

"I said that's enough!"

Steve took the moment's reprieve Danny's shout had caused to re-gather his thoughts. Bindings? Still tight. No amount of wiggling or force had loosened the straps digging into his skin. His wrists and ankles were both still securely tied to the wooden chair that was planted firmly in the center of the dimly lit room. He glanced up at his captors. One man - young, skinny, but fit - seemed to be the one calling the shots, though what affiliation he had with Wallace, Steve couldn't say for sure. He stood there in his well-tailored suit, asking the questions and giving the orders to a larger man, who Steve had to thank for the hits to his face and midsection. While he looked intimidating, he really was an idiot.

Both of them, Steve mused. Both of them were amateurs.

For starters, they were rather preoccupied with who he was. Though Steve refused to answer, had they simply checked his back pocket, they would find his wallet, thus locating his ID. Secondly, though they had relieved Steve of his weapon, they had failed to find his pocketknife, still safely stowed in his side pants pocket. All he needed was to buy some time until they either moved him or left him alone.

Danny continued to shout from somewhere within the building, and though Steve was happy to hear that his partner was in apparently good health, he would have preferred that Danny had kept quiet. It wasn't that he didn't feel Danny couldn't handle himself… the New Jersey native was as tough as he was. But in situations like these, it was best to have the suit and his muscle keep their attention on Steve. Divide and conquer was not the optimal tactical approach here.

The suit whispered something, and the big guy exited the room, only to re-enter a few moments later, his fist balled into the back of Danny's dress shirt as he dragged him into Steve's room. They locked eyes for only an instant, but Steve tried to convey as much as possible into that brief moment.

Don't say anything. Let me handle this.

But when Danny instantly began to speak, Steve knew his message didn't get through.

"What a nice place you have here," he said casually, his hands waiving around effortlessly. "Interesting color palette. Who does your decorating?"

The young man in the suit nodded toward his lackey and the man let go of Danny's shirt briefly to land a sharp punch to the gut. Danny wheezed and bent forward, but to his credit, remained standing. Steve wanted to yell at him to stop talking, but he remained resolute and silent.

"Really?" Danny questioned, still doubled over.

The suit nodded again, and Danny was forced upright.

"Thank you for joining us, officer. Your partner here refuses to tell us who he is, or what the cops know about my operation here. Maybe you can tell us."

"Your operation?" Danny asked, pointing to the slim man. "Your operation."

Danny was mildly amused by the statement and glanced over to Steve. His partner was a mess. His face was already heavily bruised. Blood oozed from a laceration above his left eye, and his lower lip was cut and swollen. He didn't miss how he was slightly hunched forward or how his breathing was slightly labored. He recognized the look that crossed the SEAL's face immediately: shut up. But, see, Danny couldn't do that. While Steve had a warrior mode he could switch into, Danny didn't have that luxury.

"You know, I knew the moment I saw you that you were in charge," Danny stated coolly, his eyes finally leaving Steve's face and moving back over to the young man standing to his right. "We haven't been able to nail Wallace with anything yet, and I'm sure it's because of your hard work."

Steve snorted from the center of the room, but Danny smiled at the proud look that washed over his captor's face.

"But let me tell you where you screwed up. Trying to get Mr. Macho Man here to talk is a waste of your time," he calmly continued, swinging his left arm out to gesture toward his partner. "You should have come to me. As you've probably figured out by now, I'm much chattier."

A low growl from Steve caused Danny to throw his own shut up glare toward him.

"So I'll make a deal with you. I'll tell you who we are and what the cops know. And then you let us go. Easy as that."

Danny could almost hear the gears turning in the young man's head. The kid couldn't be a day over twenty-five, and he shook his head. Criminals were getting younger and younger each year. Not surprisingly, a smug look formed on the kid's face and he nodded toward the larger man, who kindly released his vice-like grip on Danny's shirt.

"Very well. I agree to your terms." Yeah right, Danny thought. "Tell me who you are and what the cops know."

"I am Officer Daniels," Danny began, pointing to himself. "And that is my partner, Officer Stevens."

It was brief, but Danny saw Steve roll his eyes before pasting the menacing look back on his features.

"And as far as the cops are concerned…"

"Shut up, Daniels," Steve ordered from his chair. "Don't tell these idiots anything."

"Idiots?" Danny interjected before the muscle-man next to him could do any further damage to his partner. "Clearly you have read these people wrong. They are the ones in charge here, not you. You may enjoy getting beat up, but not me. I'd like to get out of here in one piece, thank you very much."

"You think they are going to let us go after you turn tail and tell them everything?"

Danny shrugged, and turned to eye the two criminals in the room.

"I think they can be trusted."

As if trying to help the situation, the young man in the suit nodded, pulling himself up to his full height. Danny had to bite the inside of his cheek to force himself not to smile.

"Then you are as big of an idiot as they are."

Danny whipped his head around and glared at Steve.

"What did you just call me?"

"You heard me."

Danny lunged forward and launched himself at Steve's seated form. Unable to defend himself, Danny was able to bowl right into his chest, effectively knocking the chair over. Steve toppled back, and his head hit the floor with such a loud thump that Danny winced in sympathy. He didn't have time to stop, however, and he leaned over the top of his fallen friend, his back to the two abductors, who stood, stunned, at the front of the room.

"That was for coming in here when I told you to stay in the car!" Danny shouted, landing a hefty kick to the side of the chair. "And this is for being a pain in the ass!" Another fierce kick. Finally, Danny felt a vice-like grip around his forearm, and he was dragged back and away from Steve.

Both the kid in the suit and his muscle man were too busy regarding Danny with stunned expressions to notice Steve pulling himself up and standing in the center of the room. It wasn't until a knife breezed by and imbedded itself into the shoulder of the large man holding Danny did they even move.

Steve sprang forward, wielding a piece of the broken chair like a club. He swung outward, clonking the large man in the back of the head with as much force as he could muster. The man loosened his grip on Danny's arm, and the blonde detective pulled away as he fell to the ground. Steve crouched down, yanking his knife out of the unconscious man's body. He heard another thud and glanced up to see the younger man lying on the ground, stunned by the punch Danny had just landed on his right jaw.

Steve stood, then put an arm out against the wall to steady himself. The sudden adrenaline rush, combined with the beating he'd received earlier, made his vision swim and his breath hitch. Danny was at his side in an instant.

"You okay?" Steve nodded, swallowing heavily against the bile that was threatening to surface. "Of course you are. Sit."

Taking Danny's cue, Steve sank to the floor as Danny searched the pockets of the two unconscious men, finally pulling out a cell phone. A few minutes later, back-up and an ambulance was on the way. Danny huffed out a big sigh and sat down next to his partner on the cold floor.

"How are you? Really?"

"I'm fine. Although I could have done without the tackle to the ground," Steve admitted.

"Well, I had to make it look real, didn't I?" Danny argued.

Steve smiled as he stared at the two motionless bodies on the floor. He hadn't known what Danny's plan had been from the beginning, but once the fake names were given, he knew something was up. Following along had been easy, although he was slightly surprised when his partner had rushed him. After a few well-aimed kicks, the chair had been splintered, and it was easy for Steve to locate his knife and free himself.

"What a bunch of knuckleheads," Danny suddenly mumbled next to him. Steve nodded and smiled, but didn't respond. Because really, what else needed to be said?